


Drive You Home (Teen-rated version)

by junkyardjeditrash



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bullying, Cinnamon Roll Rey (Star Wars), Cuddling & Snuggling, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Driver's Ed, F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Hand-Holding, Kissing, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, No Pregnancy, No Smut, Orphan Rey (Star Wars), POV Alternating, POV First Person, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Rey Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Teenage Drama, Teenage Grump Ben Solo, food insecurity, no child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkyardjeditrash/pseuds/junkyardjeditrash
Summary: I never said I was perfect. But I can drive you home.It’s 1998. Rey has secrets. Ben's trying to move on from his past. They both have a lot to learn about life, love, trust, and driving.This is the 90s Teen Army Brat Reylo Saga you never asked for. (Teen and Up Audiences)
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. check your mirrors

There is only one reason Jakku, NC, exists, and that is to support and exploit the massive military installation known as Fort Windu. It’s the way of life here—most businesses cater to the endless churn of soldiers entering and exiting the town, and just as many locals find ways to rob, murder, and cheat the dollars out of a Joe’s pockets. It’s parasitic. Symbiotic. Bipolar. The locals want those military dollars, and they hate the soldiers for acting like Jakku is just a squalid pitstop. Not that they’re wrong. Jakku sucks.

The town sprawls for miles, just a series of strip malls, trailer parks, cheap housing developments, pawn shops, and shooting ranges. It’s all unzoned, and you’ll see a church next to a strip club next to a florist next to some old lady’s house. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the ugliest places in the universe, and I don’t need to leave to confirm it. It’s just something I know, deep in my gut. And here I am. At least, until I turn 18, and I can figure something out to do with my life. Unlike the Army kids, I don’t get to leave.

I’ve been here since I was little, living with my Aunt Maz, in a shabby little trailer in a dumpy little trailer park behind a strip mall with a wig store, the Wexley Army Surplus shop, a Goodwill, and a really iffy Chinese restaurant. I’ve never been anywhere, and my future prospects don’t look so hot, either.

The last school bell of the day rings, and everyone in my sophomore English class hustles to shove their spiral notebooks, binders, and copies of _A Separate Peace_ into their backpacks. I love to read, but I think this novel is super shitty, and I’m not sure how much it really has to say to a typical Jakku kid, or even one of the army kids. A story about rich boys coming of age who have problems I couldn’t dream of having isn’t exactly relatable. Still, I fake interest and enthusiasm for the material, and Ms. D’acy smiles at me as I exit the classroom. I ignore the way Bazine shoulders rudely past me, nearly forcing me into the door frame.

Bazine and I had been friends in middle school, but we drifted before we reached Jakku High School. I’m a little shabby around the edges—most of my clothes are second-hand or third-hand, and I have never had a proper haircut in a beauty salon--and she had her heart set on the cheerleading squad. We weren’t on bad terms, just no terms. But that changed after summer when the ugly whispers began to follow me in the hallways.

No matter about her. My day’s not over, because it’s the first day of this semester’s Driver’s Ed class. I turn 16 over the summer, so this is my last chance to take the class before my birthday. I’ve been desperate for this moment for nearly two years. All teenagers want to drive and have a taste of freedom, and I suppose I’m no different. The thought of just getting in my car and going somewhere without having to figure whose mom can come get me or return me to my house is going to be a luxury. But more than anything, I need my driver’s license so I can get a decent job. And I desperately need to increase my income.

“Rey! Wait!”

I turn my head to see Finn and Rose running to catch up, their backpacks swinging wildly, Rose nearly dropping her discman in the process. They were in the science hall in the Anatomy & Physiology lab with Mr. Ackbar, and from the formaldehyde smell lingering on them and the fact they’re covered in fur, they’ve been elbows-deep dissecting cats. I’m in Bio, and you couldn’t pay me to take A&P. Mr. Ackbar failed to convince me to take that class when he chased me around the classroom with a stiffened, shrink-wrapped cat. Good god, dude.

“Well, come on!” I motion for them to hurry up. I haven’t known either of them for long. Both Finn and Rose are Army brats whose families PCSed to Fort Windu at the start of the school year. They met over the summer while hanging out at the swimming pool, and even though I’m the one who has been in Jakku her whole life, they kind of swept me up into their world.

And they don’t seem to know about what happened last summer, which is nice. And if they do know, they don’t care and never ask me about it. They are easygoing and never push me for more information than I want to give. We have enough to talk about with our classes, school events, and whatever nonsense we’re watching on TV, anyway.

Their parents are amazingly kind to me, too, especially Mrs. Tico, who never sends me home without food. She’s always pinching my cheeks and asking if Maz is feeding me, which I just laugh off. From the look on her face, however, she has her doubts. I should probably not go over there for a while. Mrs. Tico is a little bulldog like Rose when she gets something in her head.

“I hope we get assigned to drive together,” I tell them. It would be a lot less stressful to be with friends when learning the finer points of parallel parking and backing around a corner. I drive Maz’s little Ford Escort around the trailer park and to the grocery story, but those are all super low speed roadways, right turns, and no fancy parking maneuvers.

I know I’m not supposed to, but I do what I need to do to get by, and I try only to drive very early in the morning when there aren’t so many cars on the road. At least I have a learner’s permit now. After Rose and I turned in our paperwork to take Driver’s Ed, Rose’s mom was nice enough to pick me up so I could get my picture taken and a permit printed for me at the DMV.

“My dad’s been teaching me already,” Finn says with a bright grin. “So I’m pretty much an expert.”

He has the nicest smile—it warms his whole face, making his deep brown eyes light up. It’s fun to see how Rose brightens and flushes whenever she looks at him. They’ve been pretending not to be into each other, but it’s super obvious that they are crushing hard.

Rose snorts.

“No, you are not,” she laughs, smacking his arm. “Anyway, let’s go.”

The classroom is nearly full, and there aren’t three seats together by the time we get inside. Rose and Finn quickly spot two seats on the far side of the room. They hesitate, looking at me, but I smile and wave them off. It seems a shame to separate them when they’re so adorably into each other. I’m fine on my own, anyway, and I pause just inside the classroom door to scan for a seat.

There are a lot of familiar faces, mostly sophomores like me, but plenty of juniors, too. There are about thirty of us in this class, I estimate, and it looks like every seat is taken. A few people glance up at me, then look away with disinterest. I get a friendly smile from Poe Dameron, who is already seated next to Rose and Finn, and who I know from science class last year. He’s an olive-skinned boy with dark eyes and wavy hair who always seems to have something witty and charming to say.

It’s then that I notice Snap Wexley, my… well, whatever he is, or was, not that he ever really was, is holding court with his usual pack of hyenas. He looks up and sees me standing awkwardly at the front of the room, and his smile broadens as if this is a profoundly satisfying turn of events, and I see him elbow Dakk and point at me. Dakk snorts audibly.

My stomach tightens uncomfortably, and I lower my eyes as I keep to the edge of the classroom hoping there’s a seat as far away from him as I can possibly get. I am obligated to walk past Armitage Hux, his lanky frame folded into an awkwardly small desk, and he eyes me with a knowing glance before turning back to his notebook where he’s scribbling something. Behind him is a boy I don’t know who seems even taller and broader than Hux, and I can’t see his face because he’s hanging over a book, his thick, shaggy black hair obscuring his features. 

It’s behind the large boy that I finally spot a desk. And no small wonder I couldn’t see it, since his size effectively blocked it from view. I slip into the seat, dropping my backpack on the floor, relieved. As silly as it is, I feel more protected, less conspicuous seated at a desk. As excited as I have been for this class, I’m now wondering if it’s worth it, enduring _his_ presence. Maybe I should drop and demand a refund.

_No_ , I tell myself. _I have a right to be here._ _I can do this. I can get through this class, even if he’s in it, because I must_. He doesn’t get to determine what I can and cannot do.

There’s only one problem now that I’m sitting. The broad back and shoulders belonging to the boy in front of me completely obscure the front of the room. I can’t see the board or the projector screen, and I can’t even see the podium or teacher’s desk. I lean to the side to see if I can get a better angle. Unless I hang over the desk with my spine at a 90-degree angle, there’s just no way I’m going to see anything.

I sit back with a huff. My thoughts are spinning fast. I’m already on edge from seeing so many unfriendlies in this classroom, and so I glare petulantly at the sasquatch sitting in front of me. He is rudely large, and I’m not going to sit here and just accept not seeing what’s going on for a class I’ve paid for. My money is too scarce for that.

I sigh inwardly. I don’t know him at all, and I really don’t want to sit any closer to Hux than I absolutely have to, but I can’t see. Talking to him is necessary, so I grit my teeth and muster up the nerve. I use my notebook to tap his shoulder, not wanting to touch him directly. It seems rude to me to put my hands on someone I don’t know.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even react, as far as I can tell, he’s so absorbed in his book. So I smack just a little harder with my notebook, this time on his rather solid-looking bicep. I’m not going to lie, I enjoy the smacking noise it makes. He still doesn’t move a muscle, and I realize he’s doing his best to ignore me.

I lean forward to make sure he can hear me, frustrated.

“Hey. Sasquatch. Can you trade seats with me? I can’t see.”

After an agonizing moment, he turns slowly to look at me. As his whiskey-colored eyes meet mine, I feel my heart constrict. He has an oddly handsome face. Weird angles, big nose, and so many freckles and moles. The softest-looking lips I’ve ever seen. His shaggy hair doesn’t really mask his big ears at this angle, either. None of it works, and all of it works, and I just stare at him wide-eyed. It is the kind of face I want to look at again and again.

I flush bright red, immediately regretting my choice of words, and I glance down at my desk, looking at my hands, then curling my fingers into my palms so he can’t see my ragged nails. Rose has been after me to have a manicure session with her at a nail salon, but that’s not really in my budget. I should still try harder on my own.

“Um, sorry for hitting you. But, would you switch seats with me? I can’t see the board from behind you.” I kind of motion at myself, then at him, my hand moving higher to illustrate the issue.

His lips press together and his jaw works, and I realize I’ve already pissed him off. Excellent work, Sands. You’ve offended a complete stranger, probably someone who’s just PCSed to this hellhole, and now here you are smacking him with a notebook and calling him names. Whatever nerve I’d had disintegrates into dust, and I feel my shoulders slump a little under his scrutiny.

He stares at my face for a couple of heartbeats, then looks me over with glacial intensity. He sees the frayed edge of my tee shirt’s neckline, the hole in the knee of my jeans, and the scuffed Chucks on my feet, where the rubber is splitting away from the canvas. He even looks at my dingy green backpack that I’ve been hauling since 6th grade.

His lips part, and I find myself holding my breath, canting toward him unconsciously.

“No.”

And he turns back around. I sit back in shock. I have been evaluated and found wanting and thoroughly dismissed. By a stranger. Okay, to be fair, I called him Sasquatch. My shoulders hunch further as I feel a pulse of mortification. I should be use to this feeling by now, but it still hurts. I watch him lean forward and murmur something to, Hux, who laughs.

It wasn’t enough that easily 75% of the student population here looks at me like I’m garbage, I had to go and make a brand new enemy of someone who already seems to be buddies with Armitage Hux, that arrogant prick. If he doesn’t have an inkling of what people say about me, it won’t take long before he does know, with Hux at his side.

I resolve then to avoid them both, and to try to find another seat as soon as I can next week. I won’t wait for Rose and Finn next Monday—I’ll get here early and get a better spot.

The rest of Driver’s Ed is uneventful. The ROTC instructor, Retired Lt. Colonel Parnadee is our driving instructor. We’ll be watching some (rumored to be gruesome) videos, going over the road rules handbook, learning basic automotive maintenance things like lifting the hood to check fluids and checking tire pressure, and most importantly, we’ll be driving.

As she discusses the highlights of the twelve-week program, I am starting to taste freedom already. My mind drifts and I see myself behind the wheel of the little Ford Escort, driving in the sunshine on my way to work, having enough money to stop for lunch, maybe even pulling onto the highway one day and leaving Jakku forever.

_I can do this_ , I tell myself again. I can take this step, finally get road legal, and after I have a little money put aside, I can…

Before I can complete the thought, Parnadee’s voice rings out. Oh good, the important part. Driving group assignments. These are the people we’d drive with and do all class group work with. When we did the paperwork to join this class, Finn, Rose, and I had made sure to mark the same days of the week so we’d have a better chance of getting group together for the driving sessions. I lean forward, chewing on my lip to see if our scheme work had worked.

“Group 1: Rose Tico, Finn Johnson, and Poe Dameron.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. I look across the room at Rose and Finn, and they’re making sad faces at me. Poe is already turning towards them, grinning eagerly.

“Group 2: Gwen Phasma, Snap Wexley, and Zorii Bliss.”

Looked like Group 2 was officially Team No Fun. 

“Group 3: Rey Sands, Armitage Hux, and Ben Solo.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Hux is awful and Snap’s unofficially official right-hand man. This could not be worse for me.

And apparently, Sasquatch was Ben Solo, because his head bobs up at the sound of his name. Yep, it’s officially worse for me. Life, ah, finds a way.

Hux leans back and whispers something to Sasqu—Solo, and I see him tilt his head before looking over his shoulder to give me a quick glance. I gather that Hux just filled him in on my identity. When he’s facing forward again, I hear him heave a sigh and his shoulders slump forward. He’s clearly not impressed with the idea of me as a group member.

Hux just laughs, before turning to smirk at me with his cold, blue eyes. I really hate that guy. His dad’s a retired Army General who owns a firm that does contract work on Fort Windu. I can’t fathom why anyone would stay in Jakku intentionally, but I guess his old man is just as eager to make money off the Army post as any of the locals. Hux is filled with the bravado of having an important father, and he treats nearly everyone he encounters like a peasant scourge.

When Parnadee lets us go, I can’t get out of there fast enough. I say a quick goodbye to Rose and Finn, declining their offer of a ride home. I think I’d rather walk. I need to clear my head, and while it’s five miles, I’m not carrying too much in my bag today. Per usual, Driver’s Ed is already not going according to plan, and just thinking about class next week is making my insides twist anxiously. I’d thought I’d have Rose and Finn as a safety net, and now I’m in freefall. I take a shaky breath, and I try to think of what Maz would tell me.

_Ignore them, Rey. You’re a clever girl, and you’ll succeed._

_Do your work, and good things will happen._

_You are stronger than you know._

I frogger across the busy road in front of the high school since there aren’t any crosswalks, and I don’t want to walk too far out of my way. I’m used to dealing with the cars honking at me just because they can as I run for my life across four lanes of traffic. It’s unusually warm for February, and when I’m safely on the other side of the road, I pause to wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I put my hands on my backpack’s straps and heft the bag a little, and I head off along the roadside. When the sidewalk runs out, I walk in the brown grass, kicking beer bottles.

About a mile in, I come to an intersection where there is a rare crosswalk, and I am waiting for the little walking man signal to light up, when a silver car approaches. It’s a vintage ride with tail fins and round lights, and while I see an older man driving, his hair silvering at the temples, I see Ben Solo hunched over in the passenger seat, glaring purposefully out the window, ignoring whatever it is the older man, his father, I guess, is saying.

Ben looks up as the car goes by, and I see the flash of recognition in his face. He looks surprised, rather than thoroughly displeased, to see me, and his plush lips part slightly. For the briefest moment, I think he’s about to give a half-hearted wave to me when I see his shoulder twitch. He doesn’t.

I shrug and keep walking. It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to linger outside at night. Not in Jakku. Women disappear here sometimes. People get shot. Transient towns, transient problems.

When I get home, my trailer is dark and empty. I flick on the light in the little entry way and take off my shoes. I drag my backpack into the shabby but cozy living area with the lumpy plaid-upholstered couch and the crocheted blanket, the little coffee table covered in electronics parts and wires and hand tools from my afternoons spent picking and tinkering, and the precious few photos of Maz and me on the wall. The TV is on its own stand, with some VHS tapes stacked haphazardly on the floor.

I look at the answering machine on the side table. No messages.

My stomach growls, and I shuffle into the kitchen tiredly to make myself dinner.


	2. put on your seatbelt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ben**

“Your mother’s got meetings ‘til late, so it’s just us for dinner, kid,” my dad mutters as he pulls out of the school parking lot.

“Fine,” I grunt. That means spaghetti, the only food dad can reliably prepare. Since he’s retired, he’s been cooking more, with incredibly mixed results. I’m pretty sure mom is both entertained and aggravated at the adventures of her newly minted house husband.

“Pesto? Or marinara?” he asks, pausing at an intersection.

“Pesto with…” I drift off, noticing the pretty but slightly rude girl from Driver’s Ed at the road’s edge, wiping sweat off her face. Rey Sands.

Her chestnut brown hair looks disheveled, and her face is flushed. I feel a moment of pity for her, guessing she has a long walk home in the weirdly hot evening. I guess she doesn’t have anyone who can come get her if she can’t ride the school bus at the end of the day.

I haven’t seen her on the school bus from Fort Windu in the mornings, so she must be a local. My hand twitches of its own volition to wave at her, and then I remember her poking at me and calling me Sasquatch, and I drop my hand back in my lap. She’d at least looked shame-faced about it when I refused to switch seats with her. Though to be fair to her, I had been ignoring her, and she had started politely enough.

I’d watched her, neatly but shabbily dressed, tentatively pick her way around the classroom to find a seat, her eyes flicking back and forth like a nervous deer waiting for a wolf to attack. Whatever was going on in that classroom, I decided then that it wouldn’t be my concern. She’s on her own, just like everyone else.

The truth is, I really don’t want anything to do with anybody. I’ve PCSed with my parents so many times, I’ve given up on connecting with my classmates, and starting in the second half of my junior year just doesn’t appeal to me. I have a year and a half to get through, and then I’ll go to college or something.

“Pesto with what?” Dad asks, absent-mindedly drumming his hands on the steering wheel of the Falcon. His gold dice gleam where they dangle over the rearview mirror.

“Oh, uh. Chicken. I like that pan-seared chicken you made the other night. Can you show me how to do that?” I try to lighten up and participate, at least a little.

Dad seems delighted, and his grin as crooked as ever. I’ve been promising Mom that I’ll try harder with him and let him show me things. He has nothing but time for me now. “Sure can, kid. It’s good you want to cook. Women like that.”

“Is that why you waited until twenty years into your marriage to learn?” I retorted, shifting uncomfortably. After my last growth spurt, I could never find enough space for my legs anywhere I sat. My mother mutters about the cost of constantly having to buy me new clothes, and now the difficulty includes finding clothes that even fit. Long legs. Big feet. Big shoulders. Big ears, too. Sometimes I feel too big for this world, lumbering around awkwardly.

Sasquatch. Well, she’s not wrong. I sigh, thinking of the high color on her face as I’d stared her down. I guess I could chill out a little. I’ve got 12 weeks of Driver’s Ed to get through with her, and I really don’t want it to be awkward. Hux, on the other hand, seems ready to revel in the awkwardness with a malevolent glee I don’t understand.

_“This is just too perfect, Solo,” he said as we left the classroom, watching her haul ass ahead of us down the walkway. “Entirely too perfect.”_

_“…why? We’re just driving with her. What’s the deal?”_

_He claps a hand against my shoulder, grinning like the devil, and says, “I’ll tell you later tonight. She really made a name for herself last summer.”_

_I just shrug. He’s in all my classes, so I’ve spent the last month in his orbit. He’s… okay. Snap and Dakk saunter by, hands in their pockets, looking rather self-satisfied. They seem as amused as Hux by everything._

_“How’d you get so lucky, Hux?” Snap asks with a laugh, rubbing a hand through his curly hair. “God that would have been fun getting assigned to a group with her.” He laughs rather unpleasantly._

_“She’d probably just whine and cry about it and beg Parnadee to put her elsewhere,” Dakk comments, rolling his eyes._

_I look between the three of them and mutter that I have to go meet my dad on the pick-up loop._

My dad rolls his eyes. I can only be nice to him and Mom in spurts, it feels like. I’m just so damn restless. Maybe I’ll feel better when I can drive and maybe get a part time job or something. It’s embarrassing to be sixteen already, seventeen next month, and I only have a learner’s permit. Waiting around to be picked up by them like a middle schooler. We’d been in Chandrila before this move to Jakku, and it’s not exactly convenient to get a US driver’s license overseas.

“If I’d started cooking for your mother sooner, you might have had siblings.”

I groan and cup my hands over my ears. The only thing my dad loves more than mortifying me is mortifying me in front of other people. I’ve got to change the subject fast.

“So when I get my license, can I have the Falcon?”

Dad steers the car up to the main gate of Fort Windu, giving me a sidelong look before passing our ID cards to the gate guard on duty. The young Specialist glances over the cards before handing them back, then crisply salutes my dad. He might be retired now, but he had been a warrant officer--A pilot for Black Hawk helicopters.

“Airborne!”

“All the way,” dad replies automatically before pulling away and onto post. The manicured, well-maintained buildings and homey neighborhoods are vastly different from of the messy, lawless sprawl of Jakku, with its surplus of cheap apartments, dingy tract housing, and run-down trailer parks.

Everything on Windu is clean and in good repair, from the commissary and P/X, to the little elementary school, to the swimming pools, to the rows of tidy brick houses in the various housing areas. The sidewalks stretch unbroken, and the landscaping is pristine. There’s even an ice skating rink. Fort Windu has so much that Jakku doesn’t. There are little, brown signs everywhere, neatly labeling every building. Everything on Windu is orderly.

“Well?” I press further, hoping for an answer.

“Not on your life,” my dad replies. He glances at me, lifting one of his gray eyebrows. “After the stunts you pulled in Chandrila last year, you’re lucky to be riding in the Falcon. You’re lucky I talked your mother into letting you take Driver’s Ed so you can get a license.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” I mutter. Chandrila had rough on the family. Or rather, I had been rough on the family. I might not care for the dilapidated town of Jakku or the scrubby, ugly sand pine forests surrounding it, but even I can admit it was time I got a change of pace. Things had been spiraling for a long time, and we all needed to get out of there before there were more broken windows and broken bones left in my wake. My mother had volunteered for this posting, and she and dad had decided that this would be the last PCS, for me at least. Mom wouldn’t have to deploy anywhere, dad had gone ahead and retired, and I could finish high school.

We have a year and a half to pretend everything is normal. To be more of a family. To rebuild what was lost in Chandrila.

I heave a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry about everything. I’m working hard to do better. If I got a job, would you and mom maybe consider helping me buy a car? I’ll pay you back. I’ll buy my own gas.”

Dad turns into one of the leafy neighborhoods. The homes here are larger and more spread apart than the rows of brick houses near the main gate. These are cream-colored stucco with red, Spanish-style tile roofs. This is where the senior officers on post listed. Senior officers like my mom.

“We’ll see, okay? Let’s just get you through Driver’s Ed, and we’ll talk about it. Keep your grades up. Don’t… well, you know. You’re doing great right now.”

I sigh. Dad pats me awkwardly on the back, and we climb out of the Falcon after he parks it.

+++

After dinner, after loading the dishwasher, I’m alone in my room. I can hear the TV downstairs. Dad’s watching Monday Night Football, and I’m supposed to be doing chemistry homework. I’m balancing chemical equations, one after the other, in preparation for the test on Friday. Thanks to the funds brought in from Fort Windu, Jakku High School has pretty solid academics. It’s the largest military installation in the United States, and so the school gets a lot of funding. When the Army kids graduate from elementary school, they have to go off post into Jakku for everything else. The locals don’t care too much, but the military people do.

After a couple of hours, I hear the front door open and close. Mom’s home. I step into the hallway and look down the staircase to wave at her. She looks tired as she tugs her red wool beret off her head and slumps into a chair where she’s unlacing her boots and unblousing her uniform pants.

“Hey, mom,” I say lightly. I’m trying to talk to her more. The counselor said I should try. I sit on the steps across from her.

“Hey, Benny,” she says with a smile. “You’re up late. Did your dad feed you?”

“Yeah, and then he walked me around the lake and played frisbee with me,” I snarked, then watched her sigh and press her face into her hands. I immediately feel awful.

“Ben. Do you know how many PowerPoint presentations I had to sit through today? And I have to be up at 4 a.m. for formation and PT. Maybe don’t make everything a sarcasm contest. We all know that you’ve already won, okay?”

I nod. Well, if she’s wanting me to tone down my sarcasm, it’s a hell of an ask. Thanks to her and my dad, their blended genes have produced an offspring with a weaponized sarcasm. It’s not my fault. I’m genetically predisposed.

“Sorry. Uh… Dad made the pan-seared chicken with pesto spaghetti. I did the chicken, though. It didn’t turn out too bad. There’s a plate made up for you,” I say, standing up. “Want me to heat it up for you?”

Mom’s face softens, and she reaches out to hug me tightly for a brief second, her head barely reaching my shoulder. I might be a sasquatch, but my mom is tiny. Even so, when she’s in her uniform and in front of her soldiers, there’s no one more commanding.

“You go to bed. Leave the sleep deprivation to the experts. Why don’t you think about Spring Break? I’m going to take leave, and we’ll do a family trip. Give me your top three places you’d like to go. Eastern seaboard, please.”

I nod. That’s part of the deal now that we’re all here. More family time. More counselling. I still don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to say to her. I’m still embarrassed by my past behavior. I’m still angry with her and dad. But at least I know now that I love them, and they love me back. 

“G’night. Dad’s in the living room. Might be asleep already. Geezer.” I give her a quick grin and bound back up the stairs.

Instead of climbing into bed, I turn on my computer monitor and double-click my ISP’s icon and log in. It connects through my dial-up modem, which is 56k of lightning speed, connected through my own phone line. The modem screams and screeches for nearly a minute, then it connects. As soon as I pull up AIM, the notifications start piling up, chirping and blooping again and again. Looks like Hux and Gwen and some other people are excited about the Driver’s Ed group assignments.

**GlamazonGwen** : This is such bullshit. Parnadee should have let us sign ourselves up. Zorii’s going to kill all of us. Have you seen how she handles the Bunsen burner in Chem? She’s a maniac.

**xXBenOSXx:** It’s just a few hours a week. Trapped in an enclosed space. With someone you hate. What could go wrong?

**GlamazonGwen** : I hate you, Solo.

**xXBenOSXx** : Who else is in your group?

**GlamazonGwen** : Snap Wexley. He’s a twat, always bragging about the girls he allegedly bangs. I have the worst group of anyone in this class. Am I cursed by the gods?

**xXBenOSXx** : Probably.

I close out of the AIM conversation with Gwen, and a message from Hux is already waiting for me.

**HuxSupreme:** So you want to know about Rey Sands?

**xXBenOSXx:** I feel like you’re expecting me to say yes. Otherwise you’re going to keep dangling it over my head like it’s the greatest secret in the world. So what is it? Does she have webbed feet?

**HuxSupreme:** Well, you saw how she was in class today, all stand-offish and nervous.

**xXBenOSXx:** I guess? She smacked me with her notebook and called me sasquatch. Not that stand-offish?

**HuxSupreme:** Well, FYI, she’s a little slut. Snap bragged all summer about how eager she was to screw around in his dad’s storeroom.

**xXBenOSXx:** You shouldn’t be sharing that. I don’t know her, and I don’t care.

**HuxSupreme:** Well, she has always acted like a holy virgin, but she’s just as easy as any little Jakku tramp. Just so you know what a little hypocrite she is. Don’t fall for her sad-eyed little routine.

**xXBenOSXx:** Whatever. Well, now I know. It’s not really relevant to Driver’s Ed, so thanks for that. I’m mostly hoping she doesn’t run us into a ditch.

**HuxSupreme:** Are you a holy virgin, too, Ben Solo? You’re not interested at all?

I log offline and shut down my computer after that. I slide into bed and run my hands over my face. I don’t want to think about the rash of shit Hux seems ready to give her in coming weeks.

Maybe I can forgive her for calling me Sasquatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben’s kind of a spoiled brat. He has his reasons—but yeah, there’s some pouty entitlement going on. He’s trying his best. 
> 
> Blousing/unblousing: Soldiers “blouse” their uniform pants over their boots. This involves tucking their pants into their socks, putting on their boots, then pulling on their pants so they make a little tidy mushroom cap over the top of their boots. It’s a whole thing. 
> 
> Red beret: The 82nd Airborne’s soldiers wear red wool berets. Fun fact: Singing “He wore a raspberry beret, the kind you find at a second-hand store!” does NOT go over well with that crowd. All that counts is that I was amused. 
> 
> PT: Physical Training. Soldiers get up stupid early to do PT and formation. Then they are expected to shower, eat, and report to their units for the day. They put in very long days, even in garrison (on their home post on US soil). 
> 
> [Drive You Home – Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5kq83mbzgnHFNSCdX4Hdp7)
> 
> [JunkyardJediTrash on Twitter](https://twitter.com/junkyard_jedi)


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